“Here lie the bones of that famed steed,
High-mettled Poesy.”
A Sylvan Reverie
Scene, Hawarden Park. [Mr. Gladstone discovered engaged in felling a tree, surrounded by fourteen hundred liberals of Bolton. He strikes a few blows; the crowd cheer vociferously. Mr. Gladstone pauses from his labors, reflects a few moments, and then sings sotto voce:]
How sweet are the sounds of the popular voice
In an ex-ministerial ear!
How surely I know that the national choice
Must go with the noisiest cheer!
As I gaze upon votaries faithful as those,
And their incense of worship ascends,